


Crazy Kids

by RattyCatty



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Caught, Comfort, Drunk Sex, F/F, Pre-Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, also, catching them having sex, cooking them breakfast in the morning, drunk dragon queen, emma looking after them, jealous maleficent, mildly clingy drunk sleepy regina, why do all my fics involve alcohol and/or falling asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RattyCatty/pseuds/RattyCatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma catches Regina and Maleficent having drunk sex in an alley. She takes them back to Regina's house and stays to look after them. Drunk Dragon Queen smut. Pre-SQ/heavily implied-SQ. Care-giving fluff. Slightly inspired by the Dragon Queen Week prompt, 'Caught'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Kids

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly inspired by the Dragon Queen Week prompt, 'caught', but isn't an official entry since it doesn't follow the rules due to the Dragon Swan Queen nature. :o
> 
> [Bangs fists on desk] Bring back Maleficent! Bring back Maleficent!
> 
> Feedback is always super appreciated, and really fuels us artists (term used v. loosely re: me), so please drop me a comment or something if you liked it (or even if you didn't - tell me why!)
> 
> Also, for anyone reading Corrupt or waiting for the final chapter: I promise I am getting there, but school is really busy right now and my muse has been M.I.A. recently, especially since the last few OUAT episodes. Please be patient with me. Progress is being made, slowly but steadily. 
> 
> Warnings: Alcohol use, smut, swearing, mention of vomit, and tooth-rotting fluff.

They’ve had a few drinks – more than a few, really. There had been those pre-drinks with Cruella and Ursula, enough that they turn up to the Rabbit Hole already tipsy, and then the whisky, and of course Regina _had_ to show Mal the best cocktails this new world has to offer…

It’s safe to say they’re both well and truly shitfaced – stumbling, slurring, no-inhibitions shitfaced – shitfaced enough that it doesn’t occur to either of them that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this _thing_ of theirs in a dirty, dimly-lit alleyway just off Main Street. However, right now, all either can think about is getting closer, closer, closer to the other, skin against skin and messy, intoxicating kisses. In this moment, nothing else matters except that her legs are hooked over her old friend's shoulders and said friend's tongue is working between her thighs.

A languid moan passes Regina’s lips as Mal’s tongue moves flawlessly between her legs, pressing against all those weak spots she’d memorised decades ago. Mal knows everything that Regina likes and doesn't like, knows what movements to do when and where to make her moan and cry out and then send her hurtling over the edge into oblivion. This dance of theirs is practiced and polished – even performed utterly drunk – yet still raw and passionate, and it's the perfect balance.

Regina almost regrets it when she feels herself getting close so soon – the dragon touches her so well and makes her feel so good, and she wants this to last, especially since she knows it might not happen again. It's been so long since anyone touched her this well though – Robin had been good but he isn't a woman or as well-versed in what she loves as Maleficent is – and she can't stop herself as her pleasure mounts.

She feels a rush of pleasure when the blonde's fingernails dig into her ass and pull her closer, away from the wall. The position is a little too precarious to be safe in their inebriated state, but it's hard to care right now. It's hard to care about anything at all when Mal takes the brunette's clit between her lips and sucks and _God, she's going to–_

"Oh god!"

That wasn't her voice, and Maleficent's mouth is somewhat engaged. Regina's mind is fuzzy with alcohol and arousal, but she's aware enough to work out that there's a third person here.

It's too late, though, and she's coming, and _god,_ this is so good that all she can do is ignore the intruder until she can think straight. Her back is arching painfully, hands fisted in golden hair and she garbles a string of curses as she squeezes her eyes shut. She rides out her high for as long as possible, and then finally, she comes down with a sharp exhale. Her body slumps against the wall and Regina's very grateful for Maleficent's upper body strength because otherwise she'd be ass naked on the ground of this filthy alleyway.

(She may be utterly inebriated, but she still has enough of her wits to know that would not be a good idea, and especially unbefitting a queen.)

It's then that she allows herself to see who the intruder and accidental voyeur is.

Maybe she'll just set them alight.

The brunette's face grows hot.

The saviour is standing in the alleyway by a bin, gun raised in front of her but apparently forgotten as she watches with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "I – oh god," she stammers, apparently as embarrassed as the two who were caught in the act.

Fucking Emma Swan.

Maleficent unhooks Regina's legs from her shoulders and sets her on her feet before standing herself and brushing lint off her knees. She appears relatively unaffected, simply staring at the sheriff and unabashedly (and rather crudely) wiping her mouth with her thumb. It's like watching a territorial animal stare down an opponent, but Regina only makes that connection a few days later, when she's sober and less mortified.

For now, she just rolls her hiked-up skirt down enough to cover herself. At least she can see that Emma is trying hard to look anyway but her naked lower half; she'll thank her for that when she's sober.

Or maybe they can just pretend this never happened. That would be great.

“I heard noises. I thought someone was hurt,” she mumbles, eyes wide and a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. "I'll just – go. Can you like, make yourselves decent? Or whatever?" Emma sputters, shaking her head and blinking as if she's trying to un-see the former Evil Queen and Maleficent going at it in a trashy alley. "I don't really want to arrest you both for public indecency."

"Sure thing, _sheriff,"_ Maleficent purrs mockingly. Even drunk, she's sharp and terrifying to anyone but her few close friends – maybe even _more_ frightening since the loss of her inhibitions gives her a raw, animalistic edge.

"Right – great," Emma mumbles before turning quickly around and all but fleeing the alleyway.

When she's gone, Regina drops her head onto Maleficent's shoulder and groans.

* * *

The two women are stumbling out of the alleyway, clothes crumpled and slightly dusty, but on and done up.

They're a mess all the same.

The police cruiser is sitting by the curb nearby when they exit, and the window is rolled down. Emma is sitting inside, arm resting on the window frame with some tinny rock music playing on the car radio. When she glimpses them in the wing mirror, she shouts a quick "Hey!" to grab their attention.

"Gonna arrest us after all, sheriff?" the dragon asks, her tone challenging, as if daring her to mess with them.

Emma rolls her eyes and doesn't take the bait. "I'm here to drive you home – or wherever you're going for the night."

Maleficent raises an eyebrow.

"Neither of you are remotely fit to drive, and I know how drunk magic tends to turn out," Emma reasons.

She's got a point. Even with all her years of experience, Regina's learnt to not attempt magic when inebriated. At best, it simply doesn't work. At worst? Well, that's just asking for a disaster to happen.

"And why would we go with you?" the dragon throws back. Her back is pressed protectively to Regina's front, as if she's shielding her from the saviour, which is quite frankly ridiculous. Unless she's jealous, but...well, she wouldn't be, would she? Not of Emma, at least.

"Unless you want to walk, I’m your only option,” Emma says with a raised brow. This game is very quickly getting old. "But I'm not letting Regina kill herself in a drunk accident. You can come too, or don't." Emma shrugs. "Your choice."

There's anger in Maleficent's eyes, and her hands are twitching like she wants to resort to magic, but they all know how that will turn out.

Regina places a hand on the dragon's shoulder, warm and soothing, and speaks softly. "C'mon, Mal. We can trust her. She's a friend – you know that."

She does know that. The saviour did, after all, bring Lily back to her, and she should be – she _is_ – grateful. However, Mal can’t help but bristle when she sees the woman who Regina is apparently so enraptured by, even if the brunette doesn’t realise it yet. Anyone can see that the sheriff and mayor share a bond, and Maleficent knows it’s only a matter of time before Regina is snatched from her and this thing they have ends once more.

The blonde turns to her shorter brunette friend, and she visibly softens. "Fine," she mutters, and opens the back seat door. In she climbs, stumbling a little, followed by a swaying Regina who’s looking more and more unsteady by the second.

When both women are settled, Emma says, “So, where to?”

“My house,” Regina slurs, fumbling with the seatbelt before finally managing to click it into place. The world is spinning and her hands aren’t doing what she wants and god, she’s sure she’s going to throw up anytime soon. “Fast, please.”

Glancing at the brunette in the rear-view mirror, her brow creases in concern. “Sure,” she responds, starting up the engine and pulling away.

No one else says a word for the rest of the short trip to Mifflin Street. Regina’s head is in her hands as she breathes through her nose, and Mal sits crooked in her seat, one hand moving gently back and forth over the brunette’s back in a comforting manner.

They pull up to Regina’s house a few minutes later, and the sheriff helps Regina out, her arms around her and their bodies pressing together to hold the former queen up. “C’mon,” she murmurs softly. “You can make it.”

Maleficent mostly manages on her own, using the porch pillars to balance herself. Apparently she can hold her liquor a little better than Regina can.

“You got a key?” Emma asks.

“Plant pot,” Regina mumbles, pointing in the vague direction of a potted shrub.

“Ok. One sec.” Then, to the dragon, “Can you hold her a minute?”

Mal nods, straightening up and puffing up her chest in order to prove she’s up to the important task of holding Regina upright. She’s probably stronger than the stupid saviour anyway – she is a dragon, after all.

The sheriff reluctantly lets go of Regina when she’s sure Mal’s got her, and then leans down to scrabble in the dirt of the plant pot. Sure enough, there’s a key sitting just below the surface, and she fishes it out and stands up. In a moment, she’s got the door open and she’s entering the mansion, the two queens stumbling in behind her.

Emma thinks she’s supposed to leave it there, supposed to leave these two drunk women here and not intrude any more than she already has, but Regina’s swaying dangerously, and Maleficent’s looking worse by the minute, and is leaving them to look after each other in this state really the brightest idea? So she shuts the door behind her, hears it lock with a click, and then turns back to them. “Can you manage stairs?”

“Of course,” Maleficent answers quickly, chin held up and eyes narrowed. It doesn’t look nearly as threatening as it might if she were sober, though, so Emma just rolls her eyes.

The dragon trips on the second step.

As funny as it is to see this haughty, regal woman struggle with something as simple as stairs, she doesn’t really want them both to get killed in a drunken fall, so she resigns herself to helping them up. Maleficent manages with just a hand to steady her, but Regina’s arm is draped over Emma’s shoulder and the former queen is practically clinging to the saviour’s strong form. “This never happened,” she grunts when they finally reach the top after several rests.

“Right,” Emma says with a small smirk, because of course Regina would be worried about her _reputation_ of all things. “Which way?”

“Left,” Regina sighs, shifting some of her weight away from Emma and using the wall to help her stand instead.

Finally, they make it to the mayor’s bedroom, and Regina practically falls into bed after throwing her jacket off and into the corner. Maleficent follows suit, pulling off her tie – what modern woman wears a tie all the time these days anyway? – unbuttoning her shirt dangerously low, and collapsing next to the brunette.

“I’m gonna grab you both some water,” Emma explains, before leaving the room and jogging down the stairs to the kitchen. There, she finds two glasses and fills them to the brim with water, and then rummages around in the cupboards. A few minutes later she finds what she’s looking for, and pops four white pills out of their packaging; she has no doubt the two queens will pay the price for tonight’s fun tomorrow morning.

When the blonde enters the bedroom again, the two women are cuddled together, clothes abandoned on the bedroom floor. Thankfully, they’ve had the good sense to pull the covers over them, so Emma doesn’t have to deal with _that._

She sets the glasses and pills down on the bedside table and turns to leave when Regina grabs her wrist. The brunette pulls away from the kiss she’d been sharing with Maleficent and slurs a sleepy, “Stay.”

“Regina–” She starts to argue, but those big, dark eyes are staring up at her, and Regina looks so sad about the idea of Emma leaving, and the words stick in the back of her throat.

“Please?” the brunette mumbles.

The dragon stares at them suspiciously from the other side of the bed, but the alcohol is starting to catch up with her too and all she can do is watch. That fucking saviour. In all honesty, Mal doesn’t know how they’re not dating yet when they’re clearly both incredibly gay for each other – not that she’s complaining. The more time she gets to have Regina to herself, the better.

Emma swallows. “Ok.” An uncertain nod. “You need anything else?”

Regina shakes her head minutely, and when the sheriff’s attention turns to her, Maleficent does too.

“Alright. I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything–”

“–I’ll call,” the brunette finishes with a tired smile.

The saviour’s lips curl into a soft smile, something warm and affectionate playing in her eyes as she lingers for a moment more than is necessary. Then, she turns the light off and heads downstairs, leaving the bedroom door open so she can hear if Regina needs her.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Regina’s on the cold bathroom tiles, rather predictably emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Emma hears the coughing, looks up from the book she’d been reading – TV would be too loud, so one of Regina’s many true crime novels is the next best option – and springs into action. She takes two stairs at a time and finally makes it to Regina’s luxurious ensuite bathroom, only to find Maleficent already there.

The dragon is holding Regina’s hair up with one hand whilst the other rubs soothing circles over her bare back. The action is so gentle, so _normal,_ that it feels like Emma’s disturbing a private moment between the two women.

Regina groans quietly and presses her face into the crook of her arm as she breathes deeply. She’s ok.

When the brunette rights herself shakily and doesn’t look quite so green, the dragon conjures a glass of water and says simply, “Sip.”

After watching the scene for a minute to ensure both women are definitely alright, Emma backs out of the room as quietly as possible.

But not before seeing Maleficent press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s temple.

* * *

The sun is up now, and Emma stretches out across the sofa and rubs her eyes. She hasn’t had a minute of rest – she’s done her duty and stayed awake all night in case of emergency. Thankfully, it was unnecessary; apart from the brief vomiting incident, the night went smoothly.

She hears a thump from upstairs. And then someone curses. Loudly.

The queens are awake then, she supposes.

Give it ten minutes.

Emma heads into the kitchen and starts searching in the fridge and the cupboards for the necessary things for making breakfast. There’s bacon in the fridge – for Henry, she assumes – and a carton of eggs, and she quickly sets about making the one dish she can pull off fantastically.

Sure enough, Regina and Maleficent stumble downstairs within ten minutes, neither wearing very much and both looking like they’ve been to hell and back.

“This hangover is _your_ fault,” Regina grumbles to the dragon, running a hand through her dark hair. Her eyes are ringed with dark smears, the remnants of last night’s eyeliner that she hadn’t had the chance to remove, yet she still manages to look beautiful.

Maleficent snorts. “How so, dear?” Her voice is rough and husky from the previous night’s alcohol, yet ever seductive.

“I haven’t been that intoxicated for…ages,” she states. Regina’s not sure exactly why her hangover is Mal’s fault, but she’s sure it is _somehow_. “You encouraged me,” she tries again.

“Because you can remember last night so well,” the dragon says with a smirk.

Well, she’s not wrong.

The previous night is fuzzy at best, and the throbbing in Regina’s head only gets worse when she strains to remember. Honestly, she’s not entirely sure she wants to know anyway; things tend to get a bit wildwhen she and Mal drink together.

“Can you?” Regina retorts.

There’s a pause, and then, “Touché.”

The former queen smirks at her victory, and then freezes.

Because there’s another blonde in her kitchen, breakfast on the table, and she herself is wearing little more than her panties and Maleficent’s wrinkled shirt from last night.

Sure, it comes down to nearly the middle of her thigh thanks to the height difference, but still; it’s not like she bothered fastening more than two buttons before coming down – she didn’t expect to find someone in her kitchen.

Especially not the fucking _saviour._

She really, _really_ wishes she could remember what they did last night.

At least Emma is fully dressed.

So a threesome is out of the equation. Probably.

Regina pointedly ignores the pang of disappointment that accompanies that thought.

Meanwhile, the dragon is motionless by her side as they stare at the sheepish sheriff for an awkward moment.

Emma waves, spatula in hand, and smiles that charming crooked smile of hers. “Morning.”

Regina clears her throat. “Morning,” she replies as smoothly as she can. Her fingers fumble with buttons in an attempt to close the loose shirt, but Maleficent breezes right into the kitchen, head cocked in curiosity.

Damn her and her stupid, modest (but not really) silk robe.

With a flick of a wrist, Regina summons up a pair of silk pyjama shorts – admittedly skimpy, but still better than lacy underwear.

“What’s this?” the dragon asks, glancing first at the plates of bacon and eggs, and then at the sheriff. She doesn’t seem annoyed – simply confused.

“I figured you two would want breakfast,” Emma explains. “After the night you had.”

Oh lord. Of course Regina would manage to drunkenly embarrass herself in front of _Emma_ of all people. She plasters on a fake smile all the same. “Thank you. We appreciate it,” the brunette says warmly, finally entering the kitchen. She settles herself at the kitchen table, and silently prompts the dragon to do the same.

The two hungover women begin to eat – in the end, ravenous hunger wins out over hangover nausea – and Emma rests against the kitchen counter with her cup of coffee, takes the moment of peace to plan her day.

“Were you also responsible for the water and aspirin?” Regina wonders after a bit, cocking her head and looking at the sheriff.

Emma shrugs. “I may have had something to do with that,” she admits nonchalantly, sipping her drink.

“My saviour,” Regina drawls with a smirk, and Emma snorts.

“Damn right I am,” she teases with a grin she miserably fails to supress. “And here I am, making you both breakfast when I could have arrested you last night.” Any bite the words may have had is removed by the light tone and the playful glint in the sheriff’s eyes.

Maleficent snickers quietly at the idea of breaking the law, even though she’s not sure which one (or ones, plural) they broke.

The former queen’s jaw drops, and her fork drops onto her plate with a clang. “ _For?”_

Oh boy. Regina really _doesn’t_ remember any of last night.

Emma briefly considers not telling the other woman, or twisting the truth to save her the embarrassment, but then Regina deserves better than that, and she _did_ just ask. After a beat, the blonde spills: “Public indecency.”

Regina stares blankly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a possible explanation registers, but _no way,_ that is just too mortifying to even consider, so she ignores it.

Green eyes bore pointedly into the dragon sitting next to Regina, and then the penny drops.

Flashes of the previous night come back to her – odd coloured drinks and the sharpness of alcohol (which just even _thinking_ about prompts another wave of nausea), painted lips on her skin, dusty red bricks against her back, intense pleasure followed by intense humiliation, and stumbling into a yellow bug at the end of it all.

Maleficent’s smirk widens impossibly into a sly, catty grin as she puts two and two together.

Regina just drops her head onto the table in a decidedly un-queenly fashion and prays that the Earth will open up and swallow her whole.


End file.
